Better yet, read the books to a few more lucky kids...and read with gaiety and emphasis...and a little bit of a British accent, if you can muster it. Pass out carrots afterwards, and have a Farmer McGregor Parade. Or something. (And, lordy, if there is marching with carrots, grab a camera...how I wish I had a picture or two of our old pajama parades...these children, they grow much faster than Peter and kin.)